


About that Lovely Bottom

by annablume



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bathtubs, M/M, Massage, Missing Scene, Short One Shot, that one scene with the chamomile dialogue...you know the one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25934614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annablume/pseuds/annablume
Summary: This mini fic adds a little context to that one chamomile line in the bathtub scene in S1E4 :)It is also a companion piece tothis comic I drew a while ago!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68
Collections: I made fanart for these at some point :)





	About that Lovely Bottom

**Author's Note:**

> Most of my writing experience is rooted in academic paper writing, so some things might feel a bit...rigid...I'm much more of a drawer than a writer; I just wanted to try it out :)

The steam rises from the hot water he's only just got in, but the witcher doesn't have time to enjoy his bath. The presence of his companion in the room he doesn't mind so much – he wouldn't give up a chance to relax in a tub because of misplaced prudery. But when Jaskier pours a bucket of water over his head, Geralt's hope for relaxation gives way to teeth-gritting frustration.

He grunts.

It doesn't help that Jaskier is also talking ceaselessly, explaining in exaggerated detail what is essentially a favour he is asking from Geralt. He wants him to be his bodyguard at the banquet later that evening, which he is in need of due to multiple cases of assistance in adultery at the expense of several of the guests.

The audacity this bard has, Geralt thinks.

A witcher is often asked to deal with the consequences of other people's deliberate actions, but it usually involves monsters and not some bard's life of debauchery, and he would rather not get involved with the latter.

So Geralt stays silent and simply washes his face as Jaskier walks around the tub talking to himself. If that bard so desperately wants to have a one-sided conversation, Geralt will let him. He often finds that not responding at all leads to the same outcome as when he tries to end the conversation early anyway; which is, in most cases, even more talking on Jaskier's side.

Geralt's attempt at ignoring Jaskier's chattering fails, however, when Jaskier casually refers to himself as Geralt's friend. In fact, he uses the words “very best friend in the whole wide world,” and Geralt just can't help getting irritated.

Since when have they become friends, let alone the very best? He certainly doesn’t remember agreeing to this, and he will not do Jaskier a favour he claims to have a right to because of a friendship Geralt is not aware of. He moves in the tub to briefly face Jaskier.

“I'm not your friend,” he says grumbly, and goes back to cleaning his arms in the water, trying not to engage in conversation any longer than necessary.

Immediately, Jaskier turns around.

“Oh— oh, really. You usually just let strangers rub chamomile onto your lovely bottom.”

Chamomile.

The sarcastic tone in Jaskier’s voice does not leave room for interpretation; Geralt knows exactly what he is referring to. His mind has already darted back to that evening when they shared a room at an inn a couple of weeks ago.

He had just come back from a strenuous fight against a foglet and felt exhausted, when Jaskier offered him a massage. Geralt hadn’t had the money to visit a brothel in quite some time, and the prospect of any kind of physical contact was welcoming after the quest, so he agreed.

He didn’t think much of it when Jaskier demanded he undress, accounting for it with the scented oil needing skin to be applied to. Once Geralt had lain down on his stomach on the bed, however, Jaskier sat on top of Geralt’s thighs, which caught him completely off-guard. This was a kind of intimacy he was not prepared for, and he was just about to complain when Jaskier placed his oily hands on Geralt’s shoulders and started kneading the muscles.

As quickly as Geralt’s urge to complain had arisen, it vanished again. The pressure was extraordinarily pleasing.

He let himself relax into the movement of the hands on his back, which worked over his tense muscles with careful but determined strokes. How long had it been since someone had tended to him like this, with such devotion and no selfish motivations? He didn’t remember, and the more the fingers pressed into his skin, the more his mind drifted away.

He closed his eyes.

The smell of the oil came into his focus: a pleasant, calming scent of chamomile. No other time, he thought, had he been exposed to that scent in such clarity. It was nice. Its soothing nature made Geralt tired, and his thoughts became blurry. Slumber was taking him. He was just about to give in, when he suddenly felt a sensation lower than his back.

Instantly, Geralt was awake again, his eyes wide open and his mind crystal clear. Without warning, Jaskier had brought his hands down onto Geralt’s bottom, now kneading one cheek with each of his hands.

Before Geralt could say anything, Jaskier joyfully announced, “Oh, Geralt, I’m gonna make you famous with my songs, change your reputation for the better, and make sure you’ll be paid with lots of coin! And I’ll help you stay clean and healthy when you return from your dangerous quests drenched in monster guts and dirt!”.

Whatever Geralt had wanted to say was lost as his thoughts trailed back to Jaskier’s promise of singing about him when they got away from Filavandrel and his elf companions. And how, just that evening, all the patrons in the tavern had sung Jaskier’s song when Geralt had returned from his quest.

Jaskier had kept his first promise, and would surely keep these new ones.

Maybe that wasn’t so bad, Geralt pondered.

At least, what Jaskier was doing to his bottom in that very moment felt incredibly good. So good, he almost forgot how emotionally unprepared he was for such a kind of intimacy, and his face grew hot and red.

He quickly buried it in his arms so that Jaskier, who was still sitting on Geralt’s thighs, wouldn’t see it. He couldn’t possibly let him know that he was enjoying this; he had to keep up his image of indifference and emotional distance.

He was no longer able to close his eyes in relaxation, however.

Geralt’s thoughts return to the present, and as Jaskier walks around the bathtub, he looks up at him. Stares at him even, desperately trying to come up with a response that would enable him to deny what had happened. His face must give away his feeling of having been caught, as Jaskier decides to answer his own question before letting Geralt say anything, mumbling, “oh yeah, exactly, that’s what I thought”. Seemingly satisfied with how this argument turned out, he continues to elaborate on the upcoming banquet.

And Geralt must agree, Jaskier was right. Geralt would not let a stranger rub chamomile onto his bottom.

If that makes Jaskier a friend, he is not sure, but it is argument enough for him to finally listen to what his companion has to say and ask of him.

And to return him a favour.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a lot to [potaterto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potaterto/gifts) for ...beta? proof? reading this even though you're not into The Witcher at all and for making sure the spacing is readable!!


End file.
